


Birthday Breakfast or Not

by morganaDW (morgana07)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday Sex, Bottom Sam, Brotherly Bonding, M/M, Mild Kink, Mild Language, Schmoop, Table Sex, Tags May Change, Top Dean, maple syrup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 08:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13478019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morganaDW
Summary: 1-shot. It’s Dean’s 39th birthday. Sam had planned to surprise his brother with breakfast in bed. After that plan falls short, he resorts to Plan B but finds that his brother might have a few surprises of his own.





	Birthday Breakfast or Not

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Given the type of story this is, the usual warning for explicit content as well as language.  
> Pair: Dean/Sam  
> Beta'd By: JaniceC678  
> Tags/Spoilers: Not tagged to anything and I don’t think there are any spoilers.  
> Author Note: This is a day late since it was written for Dean’s birthday. Sorry for the lateness.   
> NOTE 2: This story has been updated since being beta'd.

**Birthday Breakfast or Not**

The first time Dean Winchester could recall his little brother attempting to fix him breakfast for his birthday, Sam must have been about four years old and they’d been staying with Bobby Singer at the time. Mainly what Dean remembered from that experience was that maple syrup was sticky on waffles, but it was even stickier in the unruly hair of his chubby and laughing baby brother.

Dean still wasn’t sure who’d been the bigger mess -- Sam as he carried the plate of still-frozen waffles to him and getting the sticky dark syrup all over himself or Dean after he’d tried to give his brother a bath to clean him up afterward. Whichever, as it turned out, that seemed to have started a ritual between them, because, from then on, excluding the years Sam had been away at college, Sam almost always attempted to make Dean breakfast on his birthday, except for the few times when they may have been separated for some reason or were sleeping off either post-hunt injuries or pre-birthday binges.

This year, considering the things that had been going on and that they’d been dealing with, Dean honestly thought Sam wouldn’t continue the ritual or wouldn’t even remember that Dean’s 39th birthday was coming up, especially since Sam would usually mention it the night before, which he hadn’t. However, waking up to the smell of something burning and a few choice words that involved fire, waffle maker, and a goddamn possessed piece-of-shit toaster gave the hunter the idea that Sam not only remembered, but his ability to cook had not improved much, despite now having a kitchen of their very own where he theoretically could have been working on such skills.

He sighed and debated if he wanted to go check out the damage to his kitchen that Sam seemed to be causing or wait it out in the bedroom and let Sam have his moment. Dean had almost decided on the latter, when the distinctive “whoosh” of a fire extinguisher being discharged reached his ears a moment before it was joined by the blare of a smoke detector which his brother had insisted they had to install in various spots in the bunker. The combination of the two had him instantly out of bed and sprinting down the hall still in his sleep pants and t-shirt. “Sammy! What the hell are you doing to my kitchen and will it involve an actual fire truck?” Dean shouted as he made his way thru the bunker towards the kitchen. “Sammy?”

“Uhh… nothing?” The reluctant reply echoed down the hallway after a couple coughs and another burst from the extinguisher.

Smirking at that attempted lie, Dean shook his head, wincing at the smell of smoke and burnt something that could now be smelled better the closer he got to what he considered ‘his’ kitchen. “You said that when you were sixteen too and nearly burned Pastor Jim’s place down by setting his stove on fire,” he decided to remind his brother, then added “Dude, if you destroyed my kitchen, I will hurt you,” as he skidded around the corner into the kitchen.

“I am not destroying the kitchen. I think the toaster thing is possessed…and Caleb set Pastor Jim’s stove on fire that time,” Sam shot back, turning as if to head his brother off, only to blink when Dean grabbed the fire extinguisher out of his hands and finished putting out the flames shooting out of the toaster oven.

Sam had known his attempt to cook breakfast for Dean’s birthday wasn’t going to go well the moment the old percolator coffee machine stopped working, but he’d been relieved that he had a new modern one hidden away for just such moments. Nevertheless, it just went downhill from there. Cooking for Sam wasn’t the relaxing, homey type of thing that Dean seemed to think it was since they moved into the bunker and his brother actually began cooking real food – which, to Sam’s surprise, consistently turned out amazingly good -- instead of instant microwave meals or heated up fast food. Granted, Sam was better at it than he had been in college, but he was still nowhere near as good as his older brother. Sam was just pleased he’d managed to make a few waffles before the waffle maker decided to flake out on him.

“The kitchen hates me,” he declared while standing back to watch as Dean’s green eyes moved over the flour- and batter-covered areas and the broken eggs on the floor, silently praying his brother’s gaze did not go to the ceiling, since Sam still wasn’t sure the toaster should have shot the toast that high. Perhaps he could figure out a way to use the thing as a weapon. Remembering that the whole thing was supposed to be a birthday treat for Dean, Sam added apologetically, “I promise I’ll clean it up while you watch porn on my laptop.”

“No; I’m banning your ass from even stepping into the kitchen from now on and…what else did you break, burn, or destroy that you’re willing to let me watch porn on your laptop?” Dean demanded as he finally turned from examining the damage to stare at his sheepish brother and following his eyes up to see what he thought might be toast stuck to the ceiling. “Okay, then. I’ll give you an A for effort in trying to make me breakfast, but how about I get dressed while you shower off the smoke and whatever the hell you have on you and we go find a waffle house before I clean the kitchen?”

“Or… we could try Plan B.” Sam offered, hoping his backup plan actually worked the way he’d rehearsed it in it his head just in case his planned breakfast-and-seduction in bed plan tanked.

Dean had been eyeing the plate of rather dubious-looking waffles while trying to find a way around actually eating them without hurting Sam’s feelings and risking being on the receiving end of the dreaded ‘Puppy Dog Eyes of Doom’ as he liked to call them when he turned to see Sam reaching for the bottle of maple syrup. “Do I even want to ask what Plan B might involve?” he asked with a raised eyebrow only to feel his stomach clench the moment Sam spoke again. “Me.”

Ever since they’d crossed that invisible line from brothers to lovers years ago, Dean knew there had been plenty of other lines that they’d crossed that often took their sex lives out of the safe or pure vanilla area. Hell, they’d had table sex in the bunker plenty of times, as well as sex that often involved different types of food, but it had been a long time since Sam had given him that one searingly heated look while not only offering him a bottle of syrup, but also something far more interesting that waffles to use it on.

Swearing he’d swallowed his tongue while watching as Sam placed the bottle on the table before reaching for the bottom of his t-shirt to give it a pull over his head, hazel eyes locked on Dean’s once the shirt cleared his head and hit the floor, Dean had to remind himself to breathe at the sudden vision that ran through his mind.

Quickly collecting himself, Dean raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Last year, sex on the hood of my car, and this year, sex with maple syrup on the kitchen table?” Dean was now very glad he hadn’t bothered changing into his jeans since even the mere image of Sam’s long, hard body stretched out on the butcher block table while Dean dribbled the thick and dark syrup over him had him already growing hard just from that image. “I hate to see how you plan to top yourself next year, little brother.”

“I’ve got a full year to plan for that…if you think at 40 you’ll still be able to handle the kinky stuff,” Sam hoped he wasn’t blushing as much as he felt like he was. Dean’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but his lips began to curve into the slow, sinfully sexy smile that had always turned the younger man’s legs to jelly, and Sam’s entire focus instantly was on his brother.

“Oh, I’ll be able to handle it -- and you – just fine, baby boy,” Dean promised, letting his voice drop to the low, huskier one that he’d spent his teenage years perfecting. Back then, it almost guaranteed him action when he wanted it from one side of the country to the other. Now it was all for Sam, and Sam loved him for that. Stepping up closer, he reached for the bottle of syrup with one hand while letting his fingertips brush down Sam’s chest. “Since you brought it up, how kinky are you willing to go now?” he asked with a teasing smile, leaning closer to let his lips graze the shell of his brother’s ear and not missing the low almost whimper that move earned him. It took Sam a second to get his brain to focus on the question, feeling his jeans start to get a little tighter as his cock started to show interest in what his brother was suggesting. “It’s your birthday. Your call,” he managed to say before he lost the chance to think much less breathe when his mouth was caught in a heated, searing kiss that left him gasping.

“I’ve got to grab a few things out of the trunk of the car. Take this, go grab the lube out of the nightstand in my room, and then meet me in the library,” Dean said while hiding his smirk at the widening eyes those orders got him. “My birthday. My rules too, Sammy?” he asked and then waited to see what Sam would do.

While they’d crossed the line of out plain vanilla sex years ago, (well, putting aside the whole incest thing, which was decidedly not so vanilla), they hadn’t really done too much in the way of kink or rough sex ever since the whole Mark of Cain mess, as Dean refused to put Sam at risk since he wasn’t certain how much control of himself he might have if things got rough. This would be the first time since then that either of them had broached the topic, and despite the ideas that had suddenly come to him, Dean would see what Sam was willing to do first.

“Always your rules, Dean,” Sam replied after another moment as if considering what was being suggested. “Don’t take too long,” he decided to toss out as his brother was passing him and smiling at the light slap to the back of his head followed by a gruffly muttered “Bitch,” which was still one of the best things Dean could say to him as that still let Sam know things were good between them. “Jerk,” he called back and heard Dean’s laugh.

Sam grabbed the bottle of syrup off the table and then went to follow Dean’s other instructions. By the time he located the bottle of lube in the drawer on the nightstand in Dean’s room, Sam was just stepping up into the room that they called the library in the bunker to see Dean entering with an armful of items that instantly shot Sam’s blood pressure up as well as caused his jeans to become uncomfortably tight.

“Wouldn’t the dungeon be a better place to do this if cuffs and ropes are coming into play?” he asked while noticing the length of the ropes and understanding the reason for the cuffs. “You could just use the ropes.”

Dean had considered that, but since he’d already done measurements for just such a time and place before they stopped playing kinky, he knew what was needed to restrain his brother without hurting him. “You tend to twist too much in the ropes and end up tearing your wrists up,” he replied as he dropped the items on the table to give Sam the time to examine them while he removed the stain glass lamp and the various books that were on the table. “These won’t hurt you if you struggle,” he added.

Sam picked up one of the cuffs only to realize these were things he hadn’t seen before. The padded cuffs were attached to the heavy corded rope and looked to have enough give that Dean could adjust them to the length he wanted. “Where’d you get these?” he asked but sat on the edge of the polished dark wooden table that they’d recently scrawled their initials on.

“I picked ‘em up before the whole Mark of Cain, demon-me mess happened,” Dean replied with a shrug, taking one of the ropes and proceeded to attach it to the table leg before repeating the process with the other. “I refused to play kinky with you after you cured me since I didn’t trust myself or the Mark. And then things were crazy with the whole Amara issue. Then, after the business with the Brits, I didn’t feel good about using them with you…until now.” He paused as he stood and moved to where Sam was sitting. “I asked you in the kitchen, how far do you feel like going today. Now that you’ve seen the cuffs I’ll ask you again, little brother… will you let me cuff you to this table and have my wicked way with you and this bottle of syrup you were so kind to supply me with?”

Sam glanced back to where the cuffs were laying at the top of the table back to where Dean now stood beside him, watching him with green eyes that glittered with a look that Sam knew was only for him. That had been the look that had turned Sam on at 16 and it still did almost 18 years later. It also still touched him that despite the things that they’ve done that Dean was still willing to give him the chance to back out or stop something as simple as a pair of cuffs, considering a few of the more extreme games they had played before the darker things had happened to both of them.

To answer his brother’s question, Sam merely scooted back more before laying back to lift his arms up above his head so Dean could secure them in the padded cuffs while meeting and holding his brother’s steady gaze.

“Damn. You are so damn hot like that, little brother,” Dean said and meant it. He saw the light tinge of pink that covered Sam’s cheeks as he said this, but chose not to tease him that he could still make him blush. That Sam so willingly and totally gave himself over to what his brother had in mind like that was a heady rush and such a gift that he was not going to ruin the moment being a wise-ass.

Instead, Dean moved up to take Sam’s right hand as if to hook the cuff, but, before he did, he pressed a light kiss to the center of Sam’s wrist, smiling as he repeated the kiss against the palm of Sam’s hand before finally attaching the cuff as tight as he thought he could so that his brother could still move his wrist but not pull loose.

Sam tilted his head back to watch as Dean repeated the same process with his left hand, and by the time he finally felt his left hand secured, the younger Winchester was pretty damn sure he was not going to last long and had silently wished he’d grabbed a cock ring or something. “Hey, did you happen to think to grab…” he started to ask when he saw what Dean was holding in his fingers. “Thanks.”

“Truthfully, I wasn’t going to, but since I want to take my time with you and I have a hunch you’re going to get real desperate real fast, I thought I’d better,” Dean smiled as he leaned down to lightly brush the hair back from Sam’s eyes before kissing him slowly, deeply but without heat or haste. “I love you, Sammy,” he murmured into the kiss and could already see how dilated Sam’s eyes were becoming with desire.

It still never failed to cause a lump in his throat whenever Dean actually said those words to him. Sam understood his brother loved him. Just like he also understood that actually saying the words or expressing that love was still hard for Dean…unless it was just the two of them at moments like this.

Swallowing thickly, Sam merely nodded as he watched as Dean easily moved back to the other end of the table to slowly begin to remove Sam’s boots and socks before reaching up to undo his jeans only to stop and lift his eyes to meet Sam’s.

“You wore these damn button fly jeans on purpose, didn’t you, brat?” Dean knew it the moment he saw the button fly hooks, and as Sam bit his lip the way he always had when caught doing something he knew his brother hated, silently vowed to draw this out even longer now. “You realize I am so going to make you suffer before getting these damn jeans off of you and using that cock ring, don’t you, Sam?”

Originally, when Sam dug through his dresser for the jeans he knew his brother couldn’t stand, he had just considered it a little extra foreplay for them. That had been before Dean decided to up the ante on him, so now Sam wasn’t as thrilled with his choice of jeans that morning because he did realize how slow Dean could go in unhooking each little button, as well as what he probably planned on doing while he worked on the jeans.

“Fuck!” Sam’s head hit the table with a groan, but the low, sexy laugh he heard in return made the torment he was about to be put through worth it. Or he hoped so, at least. After an hour -- or what Sam thought of as an hour -- he was now silently offering blood sacrifices if his brother would hurry up and just cut the damn jeans off of him and fuck him. Only a firm hand on the center of his chest stopped him from moving as much as the cuffs on his wrists would allow.

“Hey! Settle down and take a breath!” Dean’s voice was deeper, rougher like it got when he was fighting emotions and just a pitch above the smooth sex-and-honey tone he used at times like this.

It had taken the hunter at least ten minutes to get the final little button unhooked on the jeans that Dean was now swearing to salt and burn later that day. He’d used some of the syrup on Sam’s chest as a way to keep his brother distracted while he worked on unbuttoning each of the damn hooks, but by the time Dean had licked his way down to Sam’s navel, licking the sweet-tasting syrup off as he went, it was fairly clear to him that this might not have been his best plan.

Waiting until he saw Sam’s breathing slow back down and his eyes, mostly all pupil by now, found his, Dean peeled the denim down long legs and quickly followed those with his brother’s boxer briefs before stepping back to just allow himself a moment to just look.

A piece of Dean often still wondered where in the hell the chubby baby boy that he had taught to walk, to run, to talk, and finally to shoot had gone, only to be replaced by this tall, broad-shouldered handsome-as-sin young man that still had the same dimpled smile, floppy hair, and soft laugh that Dean loved more than he knew he’d ever fully admitted to his brother. The sudden rush of raw emotion that hit him square in the chest as he looked down at Sam nearly took Dean to his knees, but he was quick to recover before Sam noticed and thought something was wrong.

“Y’know, there’s a whole bunch of things that I should tell you more often than I do,” Dean began after a moment when Sam realized nothing was happened and lifted his head to see his brother was just staring at him. “’I love you’ being the biggest one that you need to hear from me more, as well as how damn thankful I am to have you still in my life considering all the crap that’s happened to you because of me.”

Blinking in confusion, Sam gave his head a toss to try to get the bangs out of his eyes so he could see Dean better as this sudden rush of words along with the deeper voice both confused and worried him. A heart-to-heart chick-flick moment was not what he was expecting at the moment, given the circumstances. “Dean?” he went to push up only to remember his arms were cuffed above him and had to fight the slight panic that something was wrong. “What’s…” Sam started to ask only to be cut off by a soft kiss, the kind of kiss that always heated his blood while also turning him to mush.

“I know I gave you a ton of shit when you were growing up about never growing into those long arms and legs,” Dean began in between layering soft, teasing kisses along Sam’s face while keeping both the syrup, the lube, and the cock ring within easy reach. “When you hit that growth spurt at 14 and shot to my height overnight, it hit me that I might have been wrong. The morning I stepped out of the shower when you were 16 and had to go back in to avoid you thinking I was some kind of perv, I knew I was wrong. That morning and every damn morning now when I see you…you are so damn gorgeous, little brother, and I am so damn lucky to still have you.”

For once Sam was glad to have the excuse of Dean’s lips ghosting over his eyelids to close his eyes or else he knew there would be no way he could have hidden the tears that he’d felt forming at those words. Growing up, Sam had known expressing emotions was hard for his brother. He still knew it, so hearing these now, hearing them in the deep, pure emotional, slightly shaky voice Dean only got with him, hit him hard, and Sam had to fight not to let out his own emotions and risk ruining the moment.

Dean could tell Sam was fighting back emotions right then and gave him the time to settle down by continuing to place kisses along the line of Sam’s jaw and down his throat until he got to the hollow of his throat. “Still want to do this, Sammy?” he asked quietly, fairly certain he knew the answer, so he wasn’t surprised when still dark, but wet, eyes opened to stare at him with one of his brother’s better bitch faces. “Love you, baby boy,” he said and then upped the heat of his next kiss until he heard Sam’s soft moan of need and knew it was time to continue.

Reaching for the bottle of syrup, Dean held it up so Sam could see him tilt it slowly until the dark, sticky maple syrup poured out in a thin stream that he then proceeded to let run over Sam’s chest. Dean’s eyes were locked with his brother’s as he poured the syrup all the way down until he got to Sam’s belly button where he let more of the liquid pool; and then, finally, he poured a thin stream down the length of Sam’s very heavy and already red cock.

Neither Winchester was certain which one groaned more at that as Sam was now certain his brain was going to explode the moment he watched his brother take his cock in his mouth and was very glad that at some point, Dean had slipped the cock ring on him. Biting his lip to keep in the sounds that wanted to come, Sam gasped at the feel of hot lips closing over the hardening little nub closest to where Dean was standing beside the table. “Dean…”

“I want to hear you, Sammy. I want to hear all those sounds you make,” Dean’s lips curved into a slow smile as he lifted his head to see that he was the complete focus of Sam’s attention while slowly kissing his way down his body, taking time to kiss and explore every single area of sticky-sweet bare skin and toned muscle until the tip of his tongue teased around the edge of his brother’s navel. The syrup was think and very sweet, but mixed with the thin layer of sweat that was glistening on Sam’s body already, Dean had a hunch that he’d never be able to eat the damn stuff again as nothing would taste as it did right then while he licked it off his brother.

Listening to the soft moans of pleasure and whimpers of need coming out of Sam’s mouth made it hard for Dean to stay focused on what he was doing. It was also making his own cock ache as it reacted to every sound Sam made and the sight that Sam made stretched on the table with his arms held above him, while only Dean’s hand on one thigh kept the younger Winchester’s long legs from twisting restlessly as his body was starting to become strung out from need and pleasure.

Dean debated tying Sam’s legs as well, but quickly discarded that idea. He never liked tying Sam up totally unless they were on a bed or in the dungeon. He had used Sam’s distraction to slowly begin the process of working to get Sam’s hole opened for him by using one lube-slicked finger at a time until Dean could move three relatively freely. Dean’s slow, teasing, process was starting to drive Sam over the edge, impatient for his brother to get on with the show already. “Dean, come on. I’m ready. He tried pushing back harder onto his brother fingers, and when that didn’t work to get Dean to move things along, he couldn’t help the whine of frustration. “Dammit, Dean….just do it already.” The sharp sting of a hand slapping his thigh told him he’d gotten a little bossier than his brother appreciated, but one look up at the thin ring of green showing in Dean’s eyes told the younger man that his brother was also getting to the end of his own patience.

“De’n…need…need to feel you!” he groaned, body arching off the table with a cry of want as he felt the moist heat of Dean’s mouth taking his dripping and still-sticky-from-syrup cock into his mouth. “Dean!”

The sexy-as-sin smirk flitting around Dean’s lips right then as he used both his mouth and tongue to move up and down on Sam’s engorged, blood-red cock, while giving the fingers he’d slipped up inside Sam’s ass another testing move to be sure his brother’s hole was open enough to take him without pain or discomfort.

If he wasn’t about at the end of his own endurance, Dean would have loved to let the cock ring loose to allow his brother to come as he sucked him off. He made plans to do that another day, but right then he also knew what he had to do for both of them.

Pulling off of Sam’s cock with a wet pop, Dean made quick work to lose his own pants and briefs before catching Sam’s face with both hands so he could kiss him deeply, their tongues beginning to play in the other’s mouth until Dean pulled back with a smile. He could tell Sam was barely of anything other than his overwhelming need for release. He stepped back up closer to the table, nudging Sam’s legs to get him to pull his legs up and towards him as best as he could without his hands free. A moment later, Dean flicked the hook on the cock ring so it came loose at the same time as he slid the head of his more-than-ready cock up against Sam’s well- stretched hole and had to bite down on his lip at the urge to slide home in one smooth thrust.

“De’n…De’n…God…need to come, De’n! Please…” Sam was totally unaware of when he started dropping letters in his brother’s name, much less what else he was muttering in his attempts to get Dean to move faster.

“Bossy bottom, little brother,” Dean’s voice was deeper, rougher now as he worked to maintain control as the tight heat closed around him when he finally gave one smooth, deep thrust that took him flush and allowed his cock to hit Sam’s prostate, drawing a breathless gasp of pleasure from his brother. Normally, Dean would have taken more time, drawn it out so Sam could enjoy it more, but, right then, the older brother thought they were both far too on the edge to try to draw it out longer. Besides, there’d be plenty of time later in the day for Round 2 once they were both recovered.

“Dean!” Sam had watched Dean’s face as he gave that final thrust. He’d felt his brother slide up smoothly and felt the moment they were flush. He always tried to wait to come until he felt Dean, but, this time, Sam knew he had no chance of holding back. The moment he felt his body light up at the feel of Dean’s cock hitting that spot inside him, Sam felt his balls tighten, and a moment later, he came with a shout of Dean’s name.

Supporting himself on one arm, Dean leaned forward to wrap the fingers of his other hand around Sam’s cock to help him milk his orgasm for all that he could while, at the same time, feeling his own climax hit with a groan of pleasure and mumbled words only meant for Sam, words that the hunter knew were never said except at times when it was just them like this. The bunker usually echoed every little sound, but, right then, the soft words shared between them and the sounds of flesh on flesh went no farther than the library room as Dean felt his own climax wash over him as he was still helping Sam through his.

The sounds Sam was making now had begun to be more pain than pleasure, which told his brother that his softening cock was now oversensitive to touch. Dean eased his hand away and looked up just in time to see a flash of white, and Sam’s body went limp with a soft sigh and a sleepy smile on his face that told Dean his brother had just passed out from the force of his orgasm.

Dean rode out the last spasms of his own climax before leaning forward to rest his head against the steadily rising and falling chest of his now sexed-out sibling. He always hated to lose the connection they had after making love, but Dean also refused to fall to sleep without freeing Sam’s wrists and trying to do at least a little cleanup. Tiredly, he debated if he had enough strength to get them both back to a bedroom to sleep or if the rug on the floor was going to suffice for the moment.

“Nope, he’s not waking up on the floor,” Dean grunted. He was quick to softly soothe the disgruntled sounds his sleeping brother made after he eased out to grab the t-shirt he’d discarded much earlier to use to wipe them both clean of come, sweat, and leftover syrup. He then carefully undid the cuffs on Sam’s wrists checking to make sure there was no damage to the reddened skin where he had strained at the bonds. Leaning on the table to gather his strength, Dean took the time to watch as Sam slept and smiled a little more softly than he would have if his brother was awake. Smoothing his fingers back through sweat-soaked hair so he could watch Sam’s face, it still amazed Dean that, despite it all, when Sam slept after making love, he still had the young and innocent face he had before all the craziness and all the horror had happened in their lives.

“Thank you for an awesome birthday, Sammy,” he murmured, slipping one of Sam’s arms over his shoulder while once again reminding himself why they did not make love anywhere but a bedroom anymore. “Because he is still too damn heavy to haul around this place and maybe by next year I won’t be able to drag his ass back to our bedroom,” he muttered under his breath. Sam stirred enough at being disturbed to at least half-stumble along next to his brother, but proceeded to promptly fall back to sleep the moment Dean deposited him as carefully as he could on the bed.

Sam wasn’t certain how long he’d slept, but he knew it had been longer than he usually liked to after sex, because he could tell he’d been wiped clean, dressed in his sleep pants, and tucked under the comforter of Dean’s bed. A fingertip tracing his anti-possession tattoo also told him his brother was restless, which was another sign that he’d slept too long. Opening one heavy eye, Sam smiled sleepily at the kiss that met him. He could never admit it, but, if he were honest with himself, while he adored any and all types of his brother’s kisses, it was the one when he first woke up after making love that Sam enjoyed the most since Dean was still mellow, sexed-out, and more open than he was once they were awake fully and real life took back over.

“Hey.” Dean had been watching Sam sleep for the last 90 minutes since getting him back to his room and placed on the memory foam mattress that Dean still loved. He’d been a little concerned since, normally, Sam woke up fairly quickly, but Dean guessed that his brother had just been tired as well as feeling safe since, once Dean had wiped him off with a warm cloth, pulled a pair of extra sweats up those long legs, and did the same for himself before slipping into bed beside Sam, his brother had moved on instinct until he found the spot between Dean’s neck and shoulder to sleep.

“Hey back,” Sam yawned, starting to shift to sit up only to feel Dean’s hand on his chest pushing him back to the mattress. “Good birthday?” he asked, only to laugh as Dean’s eyebrow just arched as if he couldn’t believe he’d asked that. “I mean, other than the damage I did to the kitchen and any pulled muscles you got by getting us both back to your room. I do actually have a present for you in my…”

“You gave me a great birthday and an awesome present, baby boy,” Dean replied, smoothing his fingers down Sam’s chest until he felt his brother relax again. “We’ll talk about you cleaning up my kitchen tomorrow. For now, we’re going to sleep. And then, when we wake up, we can talk about going out to dinner and shooting some pool before coming back here and making love again in a bed this time.”

Sam’s eyes were still heavy, but he’d been trying to keep them open only to stare at Dean for a long moment before slowly nodding. He understood how rare it was for his brother to be willing to relax, to not look for a case or something to do, so Sam would take that time with Dean whenever he could get it.

“Happy birthday, Dean. I love you,” he murmured, meeting Dean’s kiss with a sleepy smile and nearly missing his brother’s reply.

“I love you too, Sammy. Even when you destroy my kitchen and blow up the toaster, I will always love you…bitch.”

“Jerk.”

**The End**


End file.
